


Freeze Burn Tokyo: Club Games

by Serani



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, College, Explicit Language, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, Tokyo (City), Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serani/pseuds/Serani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding a strange business card in his pocket, curiosity nearly demands Kiba follow up on it.  What does he find? A certain University professor with a taste for the unusual... and Kiba.  This story is in Leilita's Freeze Burn Tokyo universe.  Permission from Leilita to write in here has been given.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freeze Burn Tokyo: Club Games

  


  


  


  


  


  


**Freeze Burn Tokyo: Club Games**

 **Please note:**   _Club Games_ happens in the Freeze Burn Tokyo universe which belongs to [Leilita](http://leilitaffhaven.tumblr.com/).  All credit for the world goes to her.   _Genzai_ is the only thing I can claim in that world.

 **Disclaimer:**  Kakashi and Kiba belong to the Naruto world which is owned by Masashi Kishimoto, not me! The plot is all mine. 

* * *

Kiba stared at the business card in his hand and tried to figure out just what the hell he was going to do. The sleek black, silk-textured card read simply

 _Genzai_

on the center front in embossed silver and gold. Kiba flipped it over and on the back, in tiny print along the bottom he was informed that the Ni-chōme district’s premier club was located in the Hayakawa House Building, in Shinjuku, Shinjuku-ku, Tokyo. Alongside that was a phone number.

And scrawled in the middle of the card, in silver ink, was a date - today - and time - approximately an hour from now.

Kiba remembered vividly finding the card in his back pocket. He’d been pissed as hell that someone had managed to get that close to him without his knowledge. Then, he was annoyed at the _summoning_ tone it implied. As if he had no choice but to appear at that date and time. Which was total bullshit. He’d go if he wanted to, not because he was _summoned._

His lips thinned as the annoyance resurfaced and he thought back to the incident. He was in training to be a _cop_ , for God’s sake, had grown up around them, no one should be able to pull something like that over on him. Granted, he’d gotten used to having his massive dog, Akamaru, watch his back, so he might have been a _bit_ more lax than he should have been. But even so, it was too much.

He was currently doing ride-alongs for a class at the college and that day had taken him to the Minato district and onto the Konoha University campus. His partner-for-the-day, a man who reminded Kiba a lot of his mother, had disabused him of the initial notion that, because it was the playground of the rich kids, nothing happened. Kiba had been assured that there was plenty that they got called for, even if it was populated by the rich and royal and the charges never stuck. They still got calls and still had to answer them.

That afternoon, he’d been leaning against the patrol car, waiting for his partner and trainer to return with lunch for them. He’d eyed the obscenely expensive cars and clothes, the offensively displayed jewelry and did his best to suppress the urge to roll his eyes at it all. That kind of waste pissed him off, almost as much as the cocky attitude that they all displayed, showing just how _beneath_ them he was. Or some of them, anyway.

Then his gaze was drawn to the annoying manager of Asuma’s from Saru’s - Genma - who’d been walking through KU campus with none other than Kakashi Hatake, the ridiculously genius economics professor. He may not have attended KU himself, but he knew enough people who did and had heard plenty about the man. He’d spent enough time in Saru’s back room, listening to the other “blacklisted” students drone on about their teachers and it seemed as if the Hatake name fell from everyone’s lips at least once.

Usually, it was in reference to an attempt to get the professor into their bed — both the male students and the female students — or get themselves into his. Or the back room of a club. Or even the stairwell in the Social Sciences building on campus. They didn’t seem to be too picky about _where_ as long as it was _him._

One thing Kiba was sure of, was that he was _not_ as interested in the professor as everyone else seemed to be. Oh, he was sexy enough, with his mismatched eyes and prematurely silver hair. It gave the other man the image of being one of the older and more learned and, while that wasn’t Kiba’s _typical_ taste, he had no problems branching out.

While he waited, Genma had approached, drawing his attention about some completely inane subject or another. Kiba couldn’t even remember exactly _what_ had been so engrossing unless it had been the way the older man managed to move and play with the perpetual toothpick he kept stuck in his mouth without even taking his hands out of his pockets. The stupid toothpick had always caught Kiba’s attention and his mind had gone straight to wondering what _other_ talents the man’s tongue had. Kiba had only ever ignored the manager’s blatant sexual flirting because the only man he _knew_ was more promiscuous than he was… was Shuranui Genma.

Then, almost out of nowhere, the older man bid his farewell, tossed a jaunty wave over his shoulder at Kiba and caught up to the retreating back of Professor Hatake. Kiba had stared, intending to do something — go after them, shout, he didn’t know, but then his attention was diverted by his partner as food was waved under his nose. He’d brought his focus back with effort and dug into his pocket for his wallet to repay the other man only to discover the club’s card.

And the imperiously delivered summons.

Kiba shifted his weight to his other foot and fought the urge to growl. He seriously considered chucking the little black card over the edge of the platform he was standing on and in front of the oncoming train, but checked it at the last minute, recognizing the impulse for what it was. He tucked it back into the front pocket of his tight, faded blue jeans and turned his attention to the approaching cars. When the doors slid open, he stepped in, grabbed a hanging strap and leaned against one of the cold steel bars spaced along the aisle.

He could admit that it was curiosity, more than anything else that had him boarding the train. He certainly didn’t lack for partners when he wanted them. He didn’t have to go to a club he was unfamiliar with in a part of town he’d managed thus far to avoid, to find someone to fuck.

But he was curious what the professor would want with _him_. Because he was very sure that the card had come from Hatake. So he was swaying with the motion of the train, ignoring the lights and platforms that sped by, eyes unfocused as he tried to work through the problem in his head.

He’d avoided the Ni-chome district, Tokyo’s gay center, thus far for a reason. He fought enough with the fact that he _looked_ so much different than everyone else with his Native American blood and birthmarks. He didn’t need to add to it, especially with something that was, really, no one’s damned business but his own.

Because he’d been avoiding the district, he also was unfamiliar with the clubs and bars. He knew there was some insane number of clubs and bars in the area. Last he’d heard it had been over two hundred or so, though many of those barely qualified as such, only being big enough to hold maybe twenty people.

The voice came on overhead, announcing the Shinjuku station and Kiba shook his head to clear it. He stepped up to the door and waited, somewhat impatiently, for it to open. Finally, he was moving, his long legs eating the distance much faster than he might have liked. But he wasn’t going to dawdle and give in to the urge to _hesitate_. No, he didn’t hesitate, he did what he damned well wanted to do.

And he wanted to find out what the fuck this cocky professor wanted.

He stopped outside of the Hayakawa House Building and considered its unassuming exterior. The front façade was covered in red marble tile, the door a simple single glass number. There were stairs leading to the upper levels and an elevator tucked behind them.

Ignoring the elevator, Kiba started upward. The card told him it was on the fourth floor and as far as Kiba could tell from there, the building only had five. Thankful he was in good shape, he cleared the four flights without so much as a huff and turned to the doorway.

He paused to consider the deep navy walls, ebony trim and thick burgundy carpet, and felt horribly underdressed. The lighting was very low, emitting from dim frosted-glass sconces widely spaced along the walls, adding to the elegant atmosphere and his feeling of inadequacy. Kiba glanced at the few people standing off to one side, possibly waiting for friends, took in their expensive clothes then shook the feeling off, rolling his shoulders and put a little extra bit of swagger in his step as he walked up to the bouncer at the counter just past the elevator.

He was huge, over six and a half feet tall and built, dressed completely in solid black - tight t-shirt, pants and shoes. He was a complete surprise to Kiba, the height a rarity in Tokyo — from the Japanese, anyway. Kiba had been fairly sure that _everyone_ but him was fairly short.

The bouncer’s height wasn’t the only thing that was unusual. He was built in a way that he’d almost never seen of the generally slender men in the city. It would have taken both of Kiba’s hands to reach around a single bicep. He shook his head to clear it and looked… _up_ … at the man. “Admission,” the giant stated without changing his expression in the slightest and Kiba just stared at him a moment.

The behemoth blinked once, then said again with no more inflection or humor in his face than before, “Admission?”

Kiba dug the card out of his pocket and handed it to the bouncer who inspected it, then handed it back to him. The man gave him a critical look, but didn’t say anything further, simply pointed a thumb toward the black double doors to his right. Kiba glanced at the man again, then turned and pushed the right half of the doors open.

 _Genzai_ was unlike any club Kiba had ever been in. The second he stepped through the door, the lights morphed from the elegant low levels provided by the sconces in the lobby to an almost _glow_ of neon. None of the lighting inside the club was direct, rather everything in the tall, open space seemed to simply _emit_ light. The bar, the baseboards along the floors, the edges of the platforms that made up the dance floor, the front of the stage, the railings that separated the various seating areas and even some of the bar stools and other chairs.

The music was still fairly low. Heavy bass and beats thumped in hidden speakers so that the music seemed to come from every different direction and even through the walls, themselves, rather than and specific place.

The whole club was a large L shape: the entrance, coat check and bathrooms sitting on the short portion. The dance floor, bar and the rest of the club — including the VIP lounge — took up the longer portion of it.

He looked around the entrance area and registered that immediately to his left was a counter for checking items and beyond that, the doorway to the bathrooms, which he noted only had _Mens_ rooms. To his right was a large board announcing upcoming events.

He started forward, approaching the other portion of the L and the bar. His identification hadn’t been checked on the way in, so he had no idea if he could drink. He figured he could order something and, at worst, he’d be carded then.

The bar itself was also a long L shape, Kiba saw, as he approached the short end. There was more neon along the edge of the bar, this in a blue, as well as lighting glowing from behind the bottles and long, wall-length mirror behind the counter. The bartender, a much more _normal_ -looking Japanese man approached. Kiba glanced at the taps, ordered a glass and let out a quiet breath when the bartender simply went to fill his order.

He glanced around the room at the relatively low population currently in the club. The seating areas he’d noticed before were mostly full, the dance floor was at about half capacity and the bar itself maybe two thirds full. He caught the DJ booth in the corner with a crop of tall, shaggy dark hair peeking over the top and figured the stage would stay dark.

He let his eyes glide over the crowd until he spotted what he’d expected — a shock of spiky, silver hair. The professor was sitting in an armchair in one of the groupings of furniture along the wall, toward the rear of the main room - the aforementioned “VIP Lounge”. Kiba turned his head back and sipped at the beer he’d been delivered. Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find out or do.

He stared into his glass for a moment, caught between just getting up and leaving and simply walking up to the cocky man and demanding to know what the _hell_ this was all about. But it wasn’t in Kiba’s nature to walk away from anything, especially something that pissed him off the way the fucking summons had.

Of course, what he’d _like_ to do was walk over there and plant a fist in the handsome face. He took another sip of his beer and worked to calm himself before he made his decision.

He’d watched the swagger, seen the facial expression and smirked. The pup hadn’t liked being brought down here. But it was that precise attitude that had caught Kakashi’s attention in the first place. He liked them fighting, liked them with a bit of spirit. The multitude of simpering, brown-nosing students that constantly tried to get him in their beds simply annoyed him. Oh, he took advantage of them now and again, he wasn’t a complete fool.

But he much preferred them like this.

He shifted in his seat and threw back the last of his beer, then set the bottle on the low table next to him and considered his strategy. Kakashi figured the kid was curious, pissed at the way the older man had asked him here and annoyed at the method that had been used to deliver said invitation.

In fact, Kakashi would have bet his entire tenure on the fact that the kid was _most_ pissed about the last part.

He watched the younger man take in the club. Kiba’s head swiveled from left to right, cataloging details, undoubtedly, registering everything. Kakashi stood up. It was time to get this going, he’d been patient enough.

He felt the prickle at the nape of his neck and knew the professor was watching him. He took another long drink of his beer, draining it and signalled to the bartender for another one. He figured he had another few minutes before the professor made his way across the floor to him.

He was right. The new beer was delivered and he managed to suck down about a third of it before he felt the tingle of awareness. Two sips later, the stool next to him was taken by the tall, silver-haired annoyance.

“Professor.” Kiba started, but the music got louder then, signalling the real start, Kiba figured, of the evening. Kiba glanced over the older man, though, noting that, while the clothes _were_ nicer than his, they were actually quite _normal_. The professor wore jeans, though not as faded as Kiba’s, dark shoes that the younger man couldn’t make out in the club lighting and a plain button-down shirt that looked blue but was indistinguishable from the neon.

Kakashi leaned in to Kiba’s ear. “Let’s go somewhere a bit more private so we can… talk.”

Kiba blinked at the older man and started to ask why the hell they bothered meeting _there_ if they were just leaving, anyway, but then the professor stood up and started past him and around the bar — the opposite direction from the entrance. Kakashi paused and glanced over his shoulder at the younger man with a raised eyebrow.

Kiba drained his beer glass, then stood and followed the older man along the side of the dance floor to the end of the bar. A brass plaque on the wall next to a doorway proclaimed that there were “Private VIP Rooms” down the hall. Kiba’s blood heated, as he got the first inklings of what this was really all about. He’d had an idea, but he hadn’t been positive. After all, the professor had his pick of rich brats to fuck, why would he go to the trouble of bringing Kiba down there? But Kiba wasn’t an idiot. There was only one real reason they’d be at a gay dance club going to the private rooms.

This hallway looked much like the one outside the club proper, though the lighting was much lower than it was out there. It had the same navy walls, same burgundy carpet and the same frosted-glass wall sconces. There was a series of doors along the left wall, each with a number in elegant script engraved into small brass plaques set into the wood.

The professor stopped at the third door and pulled out a key card, which he slipped into the slot above the handle. The light flashed green and even over the loud music, Kiba heard the click of the lock. For reasons he couldn’t explain, it gave him an ominous feeling of foreboding.

They stepped through the door and Kiba had just enough time to register a few details. There was a double bed against one wall with a deep blue cover, an armchair of matching color in another corner and the fact that the red carpet and navy walls continued into the rooms. Then the door was closed, dim lights flashed on, barely brighter than the hallway and he was pushed up against the wall from behind, the other man’s pelvis grinding into him.

“What the hell!” He shouted in surprise.

“I’ve heard about you. You have quite a few KU friends.” Breath ghosted over the younger man’s ear and Kiba shivered. “They like to talk, and I like to listen,” Kakashi said in his ear, one hand sliding down over Kiba’s ass.

“What the fuck’s with the violence?” Kiba growled.

“Tell me you don’t like it,” Kakashi challenged. Kiba opened his mouth to reply, but the older man interrupted him. “And mean it.” When Kiba’s mouth snapped closed, he felt the smirk against his ear. “That’s what I thought,” the professor whispered and nipped hard at one earlobe.

Kiba growled low in his throat and bucked back into the man against him. The hand that had been cupping his ass slid around to grip the erection that was pushing against denim. Kakashi leaned into him harder, the older man’s own hard cock pushing against the seam of Kiba’s jeans. Despite himself, a quiet groan escaped and Kiba ground his ass into the dick teasing him.

One hand slid up along the wall to brace himself, the other reaching back to touch something on the professor. “Fuck,” he bit off when the hand on his cock squeezed. That’s when he realized that the two beers he’d had a little while ago and the soda he’d drunk at home before leaving were making themselves known. “Shit, um…” he started only to groan again when the hand on his arousal started rubbing.

“Hmmm?” Kakashi hummed in his ear.

“Uh, need to…” he cut off again at another rock of the older man’s hips into him and a more insistent rub over his cock. “ _Fuck_ , need to…” he tried again, his bladder now getting quite a bit more insistent. “Use the bathroom,” he finally forced out.

“Ahhh,” the professor murmured, stepping back and Kiba could have sworn that he heard a stutter in the man’s voice.

Kiba breathed a sigh of relief and turned to see Kakashi holding a hand toward a door in the back of the room he hadn’t noticed when they’d first walked in. He glanced at the older man, then turned toward the bathroom. He threw one more quick look over his shoulder before he pushed the door open and stepped in.

It was as elegant as the rest of the club, the floors, counters and shower walls were in beige marble, the metal more of the brushed brass, the glass on the shower door, frosted. The towels hanging on the bars were thick and looked new, the soap on the counter, expensive. Kiba tried to ignore the obvious indications of money and approached the toilet, intent on getting his business done and back to the professor.

Because damned if he wasn’t looking forward to what had turned into a surprisingly appealing encounter. He wouldn’t have thought the professor to be into the rough stuff like he was. He’d heard the man was kinky, but as Kiba had found out plenty, kinky didn’t _always_ involve rough.

He lifted the lid and seat then tugged the zipper down and pulled his insanely hard cock out, wincing as the tip, wet from pre-cum, hit the air-conditioned chill of the room. He was so focused on getting done with it, that he didn’t notice the slight scrape of shoe across marble. In fact, it didn’t register that he wasn’t alone until there was a hand on his cock that wasn’t his own.

He jumped, splashing urine off the side of the toilet and let out a, “The fuck?” in surprise. He started to turn to glare at the professor when he heard a low groan behind him. An arm staked around him, holding him still and the hand on his cock guided it back to the toilet.

He wanted to ask, yet again, what the _fuck_ was going on. Maybe the guy had some kind of pee fetish. Kiba didn’t know and it wasn’t his thing, but he might be willing to go along with _some_ portion of it… maybe. He glanced over his shoulder at the mismatched eyes. “Keep going,” the professor encouraged in a low voice.

Kiba turned his attention back to his cock and forced himself to relax enough to finish peeing. He heard a sharp intake of breath and knew now that what he suspected was right. The professor had a thing for watersports.

He’d never considered it before. He didn’t get the turn on from the smells or whatever caused it, but he could play along, depending on how far the other man wanted to go with it. He looked into Kakashi’s eyes and saw them widen just a little, perhaps picking up on what Kiba now understood.

“You like it rough,” the professor started. “I wonder… how far do you go?”

“I’ve never done this,” Kiba whispered in reply.

“Hmm,” was the only answer. Kiba’s attention was drawn back to his cock as he finished. He reached down to shake it off, but then his hand was caught. The older man wiped his fingers through the drops at the end and lifted them to Kiba’s lips.

Kiba blinked at him and started to shake his head. No _fucking_ way was he doing that, but as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, he realized his error. Because the fingers were pushed between his lips and he was… sucking his own urine into his mouth.

And he was surprised to taste almost nothing but the slightest hint of salt. He’d expected… anything but that. To gag; any manner of foul flavors. But he _hadn’t_ expected it to be almost tasteless and slightly salty.

He swallowed involuntarily and stared at the other man a moment, noting the dilated pupils, the faster breathing, the throat working and the hunger clear on the professor’s face. Oh yeah, it turned the man on something good.

And then as if something broke in the other man, Kiba’s shirt was being tugged over his head and then Kakashi’s hands went to the buttons on the older man’s own shirt. They didn’t speak, for once, Kiba had nothing _to_ say, they simply stripped. The professor pulled him in the second they were naked and hard cocks rubbed as lips caught.

There was a loud groan, though Kiba wasn’t sure if that was him or the professor. He wrapped a hand around the other man’s cock and started stroking, nipping at any skin he could reach. Now that they were naked and there was no question what was going to happen, Kiba was anxious to get it moving. He pulled back and looked around for his jeans and the latex and lube he knew where in there.

“In a hurry?” Kakashi asked in Kiba’s ear and the younger man looked back up. “Got somewhere to be?”

Kiba shook his head. “No.”

“Good. Is that mouth good for anything besides foul language?” The professor challenged.

Kiba knew what that was, what the other man was doing, but he couldn’t seem to resist the temptation, either. He smirked at the older man, then pushed Kakashi back against the sink before dropping to his knees. He glanced up over pale skin and the long, lean body to the mismatched eyes watching him carefully. He opened his mouth and leaned in, his gaze never leaving that of the professor’s. The blue and brown eyes followed the incredibly slow progress of Kiba’s lips. Finally, his tongue touched flesh and they eyes closed, breath rushing out in a huff.

“Fuck,” Kakashi groaned. Kiba took his time, running his tongue over the hard length, teasing and tasting each bit. Before he’d covered even half of it, one hand threaded through his shaggy brown hair and fisted, pulling at the strands. Kiba grunted around the cock in his mouth at the minor pain, swallowing it completely and giving a good hard suck, his own dick twitching and earning himself another groan.

The older man tugged on his hair, then, and Kiba pulled back, looking up again to see those eyes focused once more on his face. “Let me,” he said. It wasn’t really a request and, at first, it didn’t register with Kiba what he was asking.

Then the professor took his own cock in his hand and aimed it at the younger man. A few seconds later, it took all Kiba had to keep from shouting in surprise as the pale yellow stream hit him in the chest. Another low groan came out of Kakashi’s throat as he watched the liquid flow down over Kiba’s body, splash across legs, along the length of the hard cock and dribble onto the floor.

He glanced back up, realizing that his own dick was getting even harder. He didn’t know what to make of that, so he ignored it and the subsequent twitch that went with it and tried to think through what the hell to do. But he realized there really wasn’t much _to_ do. He decided instead to play along and he met the mismatched eyes then arched his back a little more, making himself more of a target for the stream.

The eyes widened in reaction, the cock in front of him thickened as the older man continued. Kiba leaned forward a little, gaze never leaving the other man’s and opened his mouth. Kakashi inhaled sharply, his eyes grew even larger, then he lifted his dick a little and adjusted the aim, hitting the younger man’s lips. Kiba swore in that moment he never would have done something like that, never would have considered it, but for reasons he couldn’t explain he was more turned on than he’d been in a very long time, maybe ever. He thought right then that he might have understood, just a little, the fascination that everyone had with the sexy professor. He reached down and wrapped his hand around his own cock unable to resist any more and started stroking as he swallowed the slightly salty liquid, his gaze fixed on the face above him.

The stream finally slowed then stopped and a second later, the professor dropped to his knees, his mouth crashing hard into Kiba’s and their lips and tongues tangled. The hand in Kiba’s hair tightened, sending another spike of pain through him and Kiba let go of his cock, wrapping his arm around the other man and rocking against the professor’s insanely hard arousal. Twin groans were released as the kiss deepened and finally the older man scrambled for his jeans as they pulled back. A hand dove into the pockets, emerging with small bottle and foil packet in it’s grip.

Kiba nipped at the other man’s neck, his hand running down over the professor’s muscular ass, pulling the sexy body tighter against him. He heard the click of a cap and only a moment later, fingers at his ass. He pulled back again and stared into those mismatched eyes. Kiba didn’t know why he’d expected to top and was surprised when the other man didn’t so much as question it. This man’s reputation in everything else preceded him, so this should have been a given for Kiba, too.

But Kakashi didn’t push, didn’t force the issue. Kiba stared at the professor for a moment, then leaned in again and attacked the neck in front of him. Thus far, everything this man had done to him had been good and Kiba found himself anxious to see if that carried further. He let another loud groan out when the first finger was pushed into him. “Fuck,” he bit off, when the second was also going in only a few seconds later. He hadn’t bottomed in a while and damned if that didn’t feel _good._

“Mmm, tight,” Kakashi murmured, doing his own biting and nipping. The little pains worked their way through the younger man and Kiba was getting more than a little impatient. He pushed against the fingers in his ass, then rocked against the professor. He could still smell the urine that was now mixed with the harsh scent of the lube combined with it all the sweat on them as they rocked, grabbed, sucked and strained and it only made his arousal and impatience worse. He _wanted_. Now.

“Goddammit, stop playing,” Kiba grouched, pulling a chuckle from the other man.

“Impatient pup,” Kakashi muttered, then pulled back, snatching at the foil packet and ripping it open. “Turn around,” he commanded, smacking at Kiba’s ass and rolling latex over flesh in quick, efficient movements, then squeezed more lube over the hard, covered length. Kiba stood up and bent over the sink, their gazes meeting in the mirror as the older main lined up.

Kiba groaned, eyes sliding closed when the thick cock was pushed into him. The professor wasn’t about slow and sensual, not this time and within a few seconds, he was buried balls-deep in the other man. He brushed Kiba’s swollen prostate on the way, pulling more sounds from the younger man’s throat. Kakashi paused briefly to gather his control, then started thrusting, setting a punishing pace.

“Fuck yeah… Nngh,” Kiba grunted, matching the professor’s thrusts. He braced himself on the sink, arching his back, and wrapping his cock in his other hand. Kiba glanced up at the mirror and watched the older man’s face as the pleasure started to get to him. Kiba’s hand moved faster, his own orgasm careening closer with every stroke.

Kakashi let loose a slew of wordless grunts and moans, his hips moving faster, his strokes turning erratic. “Fuck, close,” he muttered, speeding up even more.

“Me…. fuck… nngh… Me, too…” Kiba managed, then his eyes closed at the shout behind him. Kakashi thrust hard once more, nearly slamming into the younger man, a shout escaping as he came hard.

Kiba’s own shouted “Fuck!” escaped as the orgasm tore through him and out onto the expensive marble sink. His hand continued to move a few more times, milking the last of the pleasure from his cock. He finally collapsed, resting his head on his arm on the edge of the sink.

He felt, rather than heard, Kakashi’s heavy pants behind him, then the older man pulled slowly out. Kiba still didn’t move, trying to assimilate what he’d just done. Not the sex, no, that was no big deal, even if it was in a gay club in a part of town he avoided, even if it was one of the best orgasms he’d had in a long time.

No, he was still trying to deal with the fact that he’d… done _that._

Now that it was over, he was even having trouble labelling it — saying the name. He shook himself mentally. He had. It’d turned him on, end of story. It was nothing to get freaked out over.

He worked to catch his breath and started to stand. He looked into the mirror at the other man. “Care to shower?” Kakashi asked and Kiba nodded.

He didn’t usually bother with anything like that, was more than happy to close his pants up and leave. But then again, he didn’t usually get _peed_ on, either.

They didn’t talk in the shower, simply cleaned each other up. When they stepped out, Kiba stared at the older man in continued silence as they dried themselves. He wasn’t usually so at a loss for something smart to say when it was over. But then again, half the time he was out in a loud back hallway or dark closet and there wasn’t anything you _could_ say in those situations.

So he opted not to say anything. He picked up his clothes, stepped carefully over the puddle that still covered the floor and moved out into the other room to get dressed. A moment later, the professor followed him, clothes in hand and watched as he pulled his jeans over his hips.

Kakashi set them down over the armchair in the room and pulled his wallet out. Kiba’s eyebrow went up and his fist flexed momentarily until he saw the small, white card that was the older man’s target. The professor held it out and, after only the briefest of hesitations, Kiba crossed the room and took it from the other man’s grip. “I… enjoyed myself. If you find yourself interested in doing this again, you know how to find me.”

Kiba considered the other man as he stuffed his feet in his shoes and pulled his t-shirt over his head. He picked up the card and glanced at it again before looking up into the mismatched eyes one more time. “Yeah, um… not likely,” Kiba said, knowing that it sounded weak to his own ears.

He spun on his heel and headed for the door. As he got there, the professor said quietly, “You’ll think about it.”

Kiba shook his head, glancing over his shoulder. “Not a chance,” he maintained, then twisted the knob, but shot one last look at the professor.

Kakashi was still standing next to the chair in nothing but his towel, smirk firmly on his face. Kiba’s eyebrows dropped in a scowl and he yanked on the door, stepping through without looking back again.

He made his way through the club, forcing the swagger back into his step, but still not stopping until he was outside the building and in the cool night air. He leaned against the red marble façade, breathing in the fresh air, finally clearing the last of the smells from his nose. He took in the street, clogged with club goers then put them out of his mind.

He glanced down at the card that was still in his hand and stood up, crossing the sidewalk to the garbage can opposite the building’s entrance. He stared one more time at the stark white paper with the blue embossed letters.

 

 _Kakashi Hatake  
Professor of Economics  
Konoha University  
Minato-ku, Tokyo_.

 

Below the address was a number, supposedly of the professor’s office. He flipped it over and handwritten on the back was another phone number that Kiba figured was a cell. He looked at the garbage can again, then back once more at the card.

As he turned to make his way to the station, he refused to admit he was tucking the card into his pocket. He wasn’t going to call, wasn’t going to do that again.

He wasn’t.

The card in his pocket didn’t believe him.

He wasn’t sure if he believed himself.

 

  


  


  


  



End file.
